


Why am I different? Why do you care?

by Bifuriousdean



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bifuriousdean/pseuds/Bifuriousdean
Summary: Teen lock fan fictionSherlock feels like people don't care that he can do amazing things like they did in play school.  His wondering of why he is different and an outsider makes him more and more depressed so by the time he is in high school, he is past the point of depression and is suicidal.  One day, after a bully pushed Sherlock too far, a miracle named John Watson walks in and saves Sherlocks life.





	1. What am I

As a kid, I have always been different. From a 10 second glance at a stranger, I would know most of their back story. I showed my friend in pre school and they would clap and be astonished by my accusations. But, as people grow, they tend to want to be popular, I and since I was never a popular person, I was forgotten and accused of being a fake. Since then, I have no one. No one to talk to or hangout with. I am alone and I want to end. I don't just want the bullying to end. 

I want my life to end. 

 

Beginning of high school:

"What's up, freak!" Anderson yelled from across the other side of the pavement. Scotland Yard high was a school I already hated. 

"Oh shut it, you're IQ level is making everyone around you dumber by every word that comes from your mouth." I retorted. 

Anderson scoffed and walked away with his girlfriend, Donovan, under his arm. Fall had snuck up on me like a predator sneaks up on its prey. I did absolutely nothing over the summer except dread the first day of school. Now that it's here, I hated every step that I took closer to this school and its students. 

And I thought middle school was bad, well aren't I in for a real treat.

This morning, I hit the alarm clock twice before I had even the slightest motivation to get up. I did my normal morning routine. Get up, brush my teeth, have a shower, get dressed, have ice water and an apple for breakfast than walk to school. I liked walking because it lets me think. And by think, I mean think about my miserable life and how much this world would be so much better without me in it. I also like walking because having to sit in a car with my brother bickering to me about how annoyed he is at me for something I did was not always fun. 

Ring_ring

The bells of hell, is that you? 

My head hangs as I walk up the three steps to the front door. Each step makes me weaker and less motivated to open those doors to embark the 10 month hell that I am currently walking into. When I open the doors, it creaks loud so some people look toward the sound. A few people I recognize from middle school. Why do I recognize them? Well, I recognize the scowl that the all stare me down with. 

Please put me out of my misery. 

"Hey, it's Sherlock Holmes, he can "read our minds" by just looking at us. What a freak." I hear as everyone laughs. People take turns shoving and kicking me Until I hit the ground so they all stop to point and laugh. I curl up and hide my face to show them that I am not crying but a girl exposes my face. 

"Awe. We made the freak cry." Says the girl who I realize is Donovan. 

The room fills with laughter. Just then, the second bell rings. Students flee the hallway so that a teacher will not suspect that they all made me cry and just left me here on the floor, still curled in a ball. Crying like a baby. Great. 

End my life. End my life. End. My. Life. 

As I get up off the floor, I expect that no one else will be in the hallways other than me. But at a far locker, a girl with a small frame and brown hair stares at me with a sympathetic expression on her face. Molly Hooper. She has had a crush on my since she moved here in 5the grade. The only problem with her likening me is that I don't like her back. It's not because of her personality or anything. It's just... I don't know. I've never liked any one. Well, any girl at least. 

She gives me a weak smile and walks away, not wanting to get spotted being nice to me by the way she looks around and speeds up her pace. She follows the crowd a lot, never stands up for herself and never wants to be seen talking to me because she knows that she will get picked on for doing so.

I sauntered to my first class. I hated being late to class because it showed that I would be a bad student. 

Way to introduce yourself as a douche, Sherlock. 

I walked into chemistry class and as the door opened, the students and teacher looked at me and scowled. The students scowled because I, the freak, am pmin their class and the teacher scowled because I am late. On the first day. Way to make a first impression. Fantastic. 

"Late to class already?" Said Mrs Morstan

"I'm sorry." I pitifully said as I looked down at my hands embarrassed. I took a seat in the back of the class and some students beside me glared over their shoulder at me. 

"Freak is sitting by me." 

"Freak."

"Why are you alive still?" 

Whispers we're being spread around the classroom already and I haven't even got my pen out. This was going to be a long year.


	2. What am I feeling?

Great. I was yelled at by the teacher twice because I told her she was wrong in a formula and tried to help her to get it right. But no, a simple 16 year old teenager can never be smarter than a 40 year old posh blonde who apparently took years and years of school to "know what she's talking about" when it comes to teaching. I was simply just trying to help her out so them she won't blame us for being wrong in the future. And to top off that class, every single kid found a way to push or shove me into a locker as soon as they got out of the class and the teachers sight. 

As I sauntered down the hall filled with annoying pubescent teens, I saw sight of a boy. A boy whose hair was the colour of golden corn in a maze. His face held more maturity than mine and when he turned around to look at something in my direction, his eyes were a vast ocean. I stared a little longer at him, but ended up staring too long because he saw me. I quickly looked for an escape. The bathroom and I booked it. 

When I ran into the bathroom, I was not pleased to see who was already there in there. Standing in the middle of the room

Anderson.

Shit. 

I turned around, hoping he didn't see me, but of course, he did and took his chance to grab my wrist and throw me into the closest wall. 

"Where ya runnin off too, freak?" Anderson scowled. 

"Anywhere but here." I mumbled. 

"What did you say?" He said asked more aggressively. 

"I said I would be anywhere but here." I raised my voice, trying to find fake confidence but it was evident that I was scared. 

"Well, doesn't that suck. You know," he threw me to the ground. "If you weren't so weird," Anderson kicked my ribs and I fell onto the floor. I exhaled and took a shaky inhale leaning on my left elbow trying to get up. "And a fake know it all, maybe I would learn to actually become friends with you so you wouldn't have to be an alone Freak." He kicked my left side again and I toppled back onto my side. 

"Sucks," I grunted wrapping my arm that wasn't under me tightly around my exposed, hurting side. "And you know why that sucks? Because I would never befriend a fool like you." 

I regretted my choice of words when Anderson kicked me again. 

"If thats... the best...you can do," I coughed in between the words "Than you're really pathetic."

Then suddenly, Jim Moriarty came out of one of the stalls like he was waiting for me to say that. I wanted to run but my body wouldn't get up off the cruddy bathroom floor. So I stood my ground while lying... on the ground. 

"Well hello, Sherly!" He sing songed his sentence. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise it is to see you here." 

"He's all yours, Jim." Anderson said cockily. 

"I never thought I would see you two even beside each other, never mind working together ." I said, spitting blood that was coming out of my mouth. 

"Do you think I would work with this idiot over here?" Jim laughed and pointed at Anderson. Anderson made a disapproving grunt. 

Ring_ ring. 

"Would you look at that Phillip. It's time for second period. Scram." Jim threatened. 

And with that, Anderson was gone. 

"Oh, Sherlock. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. Anderson came and got me because he knows I get to you." He sounded pleased with himself. 

"Is that what you think?" I laughed back but coughed, causing my side to hurt. I scrunched into a ball. 

Jim tilted his head because he knew I was scared of him, but I could never show him that and let him use it against me. So I closed my eyes, hoping he would just leave me alone. 

"Well, judging by the scars and cuts on your forearm," he crouched down to where I was laying on the floor, grabbing my left wrist and ripped my long sleeved shirt exposing old and new cuts. "It looks like I already have." He chuckled. 

I retracted my arm just to get a kick to the ribs and he yanked my exposed arm out into the open again. Jim's kick was more intense and meaningful than Anderson's. I thought I had heard a crack from one of my ribs,knowing it was about to be broken with one more blow to the side. I yelped at the pain, squeezing my arm around my sore side. 

"I thought I didn't get to you, Sherlock!" He danced around me. "The great Sherlock Holmes and his fake intelligence with his fake confidence getting beat up by little ole   
me." He mocked a deep announcers voice and maniacally laughed as he circled around me like a vulture.  

"This is just a game to you, i-isn't it?" I croaked. My throat raw from me holding back screams and cries as tears welled up in my eyes. Don't you dare cry! Don't you dare! 

"Oh why of course it's a game!" He jumped around with glee. "Tick tock goes the clock to see when Sherlock will kill himself. He is worthless, a fake, a fag, and a big waste of space. Do us all a favour and kill. your. self." 

Every word was tearing me apart at the seams. I can't do this, I can't. Maybe I will do just wait he said. To finally do something right. 

Kill myself. 

At this point I was crying. Every word coming out of his mouth was absolutely true. Tears streaming from my eyes down my face onto the floor. This was the only thing I was good at in this pathetic life. Crying. I laid on the the grubby floor, hating every part of my life. 

"You're nothing special. Stop cutting yourself and just finish off the job because all of us in this damn school know you do it for attention." Moriarty stomped on my arm and dragged his shoe across my arm on the cuts. 

God, it hurt so much that I began to wriggle and squirm. But I didn't fight to get away from him because I deserved it. 

I deserved every pain and punishment that came my way because I was just a faggot who liked every cute boy I saw. I remember last year in grade 9, I liked a boy who would later be the cause of my depression and everyone bulling me. He was in the high school football so he was fit and boy was he ever attractive. He was also 4 years older than me so he was graduating. He would sneak into the school to hang out with me during lunch and made me skip most of my classes to hang out with him and he'd drive me somewhere isolated where nobody could see us make out and do other... things. But after one of his football games, he dragged me by my collar to under the bleachers outside and started yelling, shoving and laughing at me. 

"Why would I like a freak like you?!" He punched and laughed. 

I was heart broken, and the person behind this whole thing was none other than Moriaty. The guy I had been seeing for three months never actually liked me, he was just using me to find personal issues that I had so he could later tell Moriarty about them. Of course, Jim would send them out as rumours. So basically, everyone knew I was gay, depressed and I cut.

Back to the current situation, Moriarty dragged the side of his shoe up and down my arm and on my cuts, opening every single one of them. I didn't care. I hoped I bled to death. 

I tried to push myself off of the floor for the third time, but Jim leaned down with a menacing smile, then punched my face and sent me falling onto the ground again followed by two kicks. One to the face, one to the ribs. 

My ribs, nose and possibly my brow bone was officially broken.  I was bleeding 

Why am I alive? Finish me off. FINISH ME OFF!!!

"Hahaha," he sing psychotically and danced around like I was an animal he had shot and killed with a gun. "I have finally pushed your buttons, haven't I?!"

I lied there, no motion or emotion in my body. 

"Fine if you won't talk to me, than I will make up cringe or cry harder. I can't decide. Loser, cocksucker, faker, fatass." He listed. 

But that word. That horrible, horrible word. Fatass. I couldn't help but choke back a sob. 

"What? What made the great Sherlock Holmes cry about, hm? Loser? No, that's too easy. Faker? No that either. Fatass?" 

I cringed. 

"Found it." He sneered. "Your weak spot, huh? Eating is really packing on the pounds, sherly!" He stepped over me and poked my stomach with disguising glee. 

I struggled with my weight in my early childhood and kids are just so cruel. I worked out Every. Single. Night. And I ate no dinner or breakfast for the last 7 years. But apparently, it wasn't enough. Nothing I did was ever enough. 

"Yes, fatass. I like that. Well, see you soon Sherlock, or should I say fattie." Jim waltzed out of the bathroom with a skip in his step while humming a haunting tune. 

I gave up on trying to get up and laid on the floor and wept. 

Maybe I should end it all and maybe I should just die right now. 

I closed my eyes and sobbed on the floor, waiting for my heart to stop beating. 

"Hey, are you alright?" 

My eyes flew open and I jerked my head towards the entrance which sent a pain that shot up my side and torso. I whimpered and laid back down, curling into a tighter circle and closed my eyes. "Leave me alone. Leave me here to die, I deserve it."

"No you don't. No one deserves to die." The mysterious voice said sympathetically. I heard footsteps walk toward me so I closed my eyes tighter. I wasn't even worth someone feeling bad for me. 

I heard shuffling and I opened my right eye slightly to look at him. He started to lie down beside me, so I closed my eye again. I heard him shuffling to get comfortable on the hard tile floor. 

"Are you okay?" 

I opened both my eyes slightly through the tears. He was kind of blurry so I opened my eyes fully and what I saw brought out the  butterflies in my stomach. Those beautiful eyes belonged to the beautiful boy That I had seen him in the hallway. Up close though, they were more detailed that held not just blue but had flecks of purple and green colours. His eyes weren't an ocean like how I had described his blue eyes from afar, they were more of a galaxy. A universe that held and told many stories along with memories.

His face was soft with soft wrinkles on his forehead and eyes. His face was genuine and kind. 

Why would some like him even be around me never mind even talking to me. 

He smiled at me and I pitifully sniffled back. His eyes crinkled when he smiled and made his galaxy eyes even more stunning. 

Why was he being so nice? I was just scum on this bathroom floor.

"Why are you taking to me?" I squeaked.

"What do you mean?" The galaxy boy asked tilting his head. 

"I mean, w-why would y-you want t-to talk to m-me?" I shakily asked in between hiccups. 

His brows furrowed seemingly confused. "Well, I heard you were in distress and I wanted to come see if you were okay." 

I scrunched my face and leaned my head against my left arm, looking at the starry-eyed boy. 

I soon realized that my scarred arm was exposed and quickly withdrew it sending another shot of pain through my side. I whined and whimpered. 

"I think we need to get you to a hospital." The boy I front of me said. 

"No, I'm fine." I didn't mean to sound like I was scolding him, but the pain was becoming unbearable. 

"Well, Mr. "I'm fine." I feel that you're not. So we are going to get you to a hospital. 

I looked at him with confusion. "Why would you help a freak like me?" 

This time, it was him to give a confused look. "A freak? You're not a freak. Why would someone think that?" 

With that, he had bent down a began to gently pick me up, bridal style. My body was in so much pain that I didn't even bother to resist his help. Mystery boy began to walk out of the bathroom and into the hallway. 

"I'm going to take you to the office and tell them to get you to the hospital as soon as possible." He looked down at me with a smile, then looked back up to see where he was going. 

I watched him, astonished that this beautiful boy is helping me. Me. A piece of scum on the floor. Yet here we are. Him caring me to safety like I am a damsel in destress. He walked with a purpose, but not too fast where it would hurt me. I curled up in his arms. I felt safe here. 

I felt blood trickling down from my eyebrow and nose. I knew that my face was looked absolutely horrendous, knowing that it was painted with blood and bruises and most likely swollen like hell. 

Oh well, just a few more scares to put in the check book. 

As we began to get closer to the office, one of the secretary's had seen me and jumped into action. She called all the staff that was in the office to either phone 999 or to come carry me and ask me a billion questions. I didn't want to be ripped away from this boys strong arms because I felt safe around him. 

As I was transferred from person to person, I was trying to find the boy that saved me.

But he was no where to be seen. 

He probably doesn't really care about me and was probably but doing the right thing. 

I silently cried as I heard sirens in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE. Sorry I was gone but I am back and I like this chapter. I don't really have much to say so enjoy the update and I will be back soon!!! <3\.   
> Enjoy lovelies!   
> -B


	3. What am I feeling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> This chapter has self harm so it's triggering. So if you don't want to read it, I will put a warning before it but if you want to continue to read the chapter after it, then I will mark the end of that specific section.

I was correct. Five broken ribs, fractured hips, broken brow bone, shoulder displacement, bridge of my nose was broken and finally a broken state of mind. The doctors were going through the usual. Take care of yourself, don't do physical activity, blah blah blah. All that was on my mind with the galaxy eyed boy that saved me. 

I wouldn't say he "saved my life" but he did save me in a way. Saved me from myself. I would have probably stayed there on the ground, waiting for him to come back one finish me off. Or I would move around a whole bunch to hopefully puncture something so I would also internally bleed to death. 

I stayed in the hospital until the evening, 17:30 to be exact, then I was sent on my merry way to my house. My parents had come as well and they asked my a billion more question to top off the teachers at the school. After that, they drove me home and my father carried me straight upstairs to my room. I wasn't supposed to walk around, unless absolute necessary, and I should stay in bed and my food couldn't be solid. 

My necessary bed-arrest lasted 3 hours before I began to think about what Moriarty said.

"You're nothing special. Stop cutting yourself and just finish off the job because all of us in this damn school know you do it for attention."

But the one thing that rung in  my head most made me cringe so hard that I had to choke back my sobbing. 

Fatass. 

That word it's self was just horrid to listen to. I heard it from my elementary friends, teachers and even my own brother. I was always 50 pounds overweight growing up, so I finally, I had had enough. I starved myself, ate nothing but an apple and a slice of bread every six days. I drank endless amounts of ice water and chewed on nothing but ice. If I ever, ever got hungry, I would make myself do 50 minutes of intense working out. Finally I had lost that 50 pounds, but it still wasn't enough. Fatass still rung in my ears non stop. Whenever I looked in a mirror or a reflective surface, I didn't see progress, I saw myself as my old self, sometimes, I saw myself as even more over weight and disguising. 

I hate every aspect of my life. I hated that I did different things, hate how I processed life differently from others. I just wanted to be liked be everyone. I wanted more friends then humanly possible. I wanted to date someone. Wanted someone to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. To kiss me and hold me and dominate me in other aspects of our relation. That's why I went after Sebastien last year. I loved the way he dominated me. I was just never good enough for any one. 

Coming back to the present, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, hurting myself in the process. I squeaked, but didn't make a loud sound. I shuffled and moaned softly because of the pain  to the bathroom. I didn't want anyone knowing I was walking around. Once I got into the bathroom, I closed and locked the door. I turned towards the body length mirror and cringed at what I saw. My torso wrapped with multiple banged, different wraps covering the different wounds and on my left side, dark purple bruises peeked over the bandages. I looked at both my arms and hips, seeing the damage the scars and scabs that I had left there. Most were opened up because of Moriarty's shoe from earlier. Each cut a different depth and I like the way whey looked on my pale, veiny skin. I worked up my body, judging everything about it, then, I finally got to my face. Just as I suspected earlier, cuts scattered my face, both eyes bruised and swollen, my upper lip swollen with multiple split lips. I cringed once more and did one last while body scan before hobbling towards the wooden cabinet and the end of the bathroom. 

(Here would be a good place to stop if you don't want to read the self harm section. )

I dug around, moving hair brushes, hair products and other things before I found what I was looking for. The knife. This knife was not just any old table knife. Oh no, this knife was a switch blade. Beautiful in every way. They way it cut my skin, opening up my flesh, parting it to expose the insides into the fresh air. I didn't need to press very hard, but just enough to get it to cut just deep enough. 

I pulled out the blade, admiring the way it glistened in the light. 

We all know you do it for attention. Just do us all a favour and finish off the job. 

 

The words weren't true, I didn't do it for attention, I did it because it made the pin of the world go away. The rush of adrenaline when I would cut a little too deep made it all the worry dissipate. I began to lightly slice at my skin. I didn't like to go to deep yet because I built up motivation to go deeper. The feeling of calm rushed over me. The blood building up on my skin like little dew drops on the grass in the morning. The feeling of my flesh being opened and then tighten made me feel better as well. The way it would easily bend and break for me in just the way I wanted. I began to think again. Think about Moriarty and what he had said I the bathroom. Saying I was fake and I wasn't worth it. I began to cut deeper and faster, blood trickling down my bruised arm. I began to get a lump in my throat because of me holding back my tears. 

Why am I hiding my crying? I already cry in front of people.

I let tears stream down my face while I was slicing and dicing my own skin. I craved this calm feeling. The deeper I got, the less stressed I became. Blood oozed from my open cuts onto the tile floor. I didn't care about my broken body, I didn't care if I bled to death. I looked down at my arm, content. I dab a white cloth on my arm, wiping away blood. It was stained with dried blood from the previous time I cut myself two days ago. I stumbled over to a near by wall and sled gently onto the floor, resting my head against the wall. Moriarty couldn't get out of my head. Saying I was a waste of space. I opened my eyes and fresh tears came as I balled my eyes out silently. I looked down at my left wrist, covered in blood, and the knife and made up my mind. 

I placed the blade onto my skin, vertically down my arm, getting ready to end all of my life's worries right here, right now. I began to press down but just before I started gliding down the vein that would be the cause of my death, I saw a galaxy. Not the one in the sky, but the one in someone's eyes, his eyes. I want to seem them again, to get to know them. 

I lifted the blade slowly, wiping away the tears from my swollen eyes. 

I don't even know him. He probably doesn't like me. 

(OKAY YOURE GOOD TO GO, NO MORE TRIGGER WARNINGS)

I got up off of the floor and finished wiping off the blood off of my arm and wrapped it up in a cloth like I usually did after I cut. I hobbled back to my bed and lied down on the plush bedding, snuggling in but being gently as to not hurt my side. I stared at the ceiling, letting my thoughts wander to the star boy. I imagined me in his arms, the feeling of safety. I don't get to go to school until Friday but I could still imagine what this boy was like. No one has ever brought me the feeling of safety and calm ever and I wanted more of him. 

What am I feeling? I don't even know him. 

I closed my eyes and fell asleep only to see him dancing around behind my eyes in my messed up mind, clearing a path in it. 

I feel asleep with a smile on my face instead dried tears. 

See you soon, Star boy.


	4. What is happening?

The doctors had said that the healing would take a week. So, as a week went by of me sitting alone in my room, I was dreading going back to school. The words freak and end your life kept repeating in my mind. 

End it all right now. 

That also went through my mind daily. But, the one thing keeping me from ending my life was a boy. Not just any boy. But That boy. The one who saved me from myself. Saved me from a possible second round with Jim which would most likely end with me lying face first in the tiles of the bathroom floor, lifeless. I wish that Moriarty did end my life in the washroom, but part of me was glad he didn't. 

What am I even thinking, I don't even know the galaxy boys name. I done even know who he's is but I find myself I wanting to see those eyes again. To see him again. God, I dreamt about him every night for the past week. Imagined what he was like. What he liked. What his name was. 

Now, today is the day I go back to hell, I mean school. I sulked my way up the two stairs toward the front doors of Scotland Yard high. 

A girl was talking to her friend, leaning on the rail of the steps, holding her books. She looked over at me and dramatically acted surprised to see me." Woah, freak is still alive." She whispered to her friend. 

"Well, of course I am. Who else would you guys pick on if I was dead?" My voice croaked back a response through my unused vocal chords. 

The girl scoffed at me and walked away with her friend. As I turned my attention back to entrance, I saw him. Him. The star boy. He was walking out of the doors with his head down, then, as if he sensed me looking at him, he looked me right in the eyes and smiled. And that smile, ugh. That smile could stop someone's heart because of how beautiful it was. He also waved. HE FRICKEN WAVED AT ME!!!

I looked behind me to see if he was waving or saying hello to a friend that was behind me, but no one was there. I turned back to him and pointed at my self with a confused look. He chuckled and walked closer to me. 

I think that I am gonna have a heart attack. 

"Hello again." He came up to me and stood pretty close to my face. I was a little taller then him, but still, he got right up in my personal space. 

Wait how could he have carried me with such a small body? He's so small and cute, it's like a could pick him up and give him a big hug and a...

His chuckle brought me out of my thoughts and back into reality. "Oh... yes, hello there..." I trailed off, not knowing how to finish off my sentence without his name. 

"John. John Watson." He extended his hand out. I grab his hand and nearly fainted. His grip on my hand was amazing. It could really grip on something else too. I mean, his hands were soft... in a... non gay way... of course. 

"Sherlock Holmes." I said back with a small smile. I realized that I was holding his hand for too long, so I retreated both my hand to behind my back. 

"How are you feeling, I've missed you all week. I wanted to meet the guy that I helped." 

Did he just say he missed me? He missed me? "Wait," I said with confusion, tilting my head, lWhy would you miss me? Nobody ever misses me."

Now it was his turn to look confused. "What do you mean? Surely you have friends at this school who would miss you too."

I looked down at my feet, bringing my hands to the front of me so I could pick at them nervously while shaking me head slightly. "I've never had a friend. People always call me freak and want nothing to do with me." I looked up fast. 

Why was I sharing information about myself to John? I just met him not even 30 seconds ago. 

"Well," he spoke up. "You've got me." He brought his hand up to my shoulder and smiled at me with honesty in his eyes. 

I tilted my head and made another confused look at him, not really paying attention to the sudden touch. "You don't care what people think about you. About how you're friends with the 'no it all loser'." I brought my hands up to make finger quotations. 

"I could honestly care less what people say. All these kids are dumb. The only thing that makes sense in their mind is smoking, parting and drinking." He raised his eyebrows at me. 

I looked at John, astonished about him not caring what other people think. 

Ring_ring 

"Well, I better be heading to class now, do you want to meet up at lunch?" He asked, beginning to open the door, letting me walk in first. 

I smiled a genuine smile at him, "I would like that." 

"See you later, Sherlock Holmes!" He called as he waltzed down the hallway. 

"See you soon, John Watson." I waved a farewell as I walked to my first class. 

3 hours later. 

What seems like an eternity later, its lunch. Mrs Morstan was once again angry at me, but this time for missing a weeks worth of school. No matter what I said or told her what happened, she didn't care and told my I was lying. If I wanted to lie, I would tell her that I sprouted wings and flew to China. But, that would apparently be a more interesting or convincing story than mine about my unfortunate encounter with Jim. 

An hour later and a half of sitting thought having to listen to the teachers voice, I had English with Mrs Hudson. Mrs Hudson goes to our family get togethers every thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. She's a family friend of my parents, so I see her all the time. I was happy to have her as a teacher. She was another reason why I wasn't buried six feet under yet. Mr Hudson had a smile that lit up my whole day and her cute wrinkles from her age made her appearance more friendly. When I walked into class, she bombarded me with questions asking me where I have been, who did such an awful thing to me, why I didn't tell anyone this was happening, do I need to continue? 

Now that it was lunch, I was pretty excited for it, given I feel that it is very unnecessary and is just more time for me to stay in this awful school longer than I have to. Plus, having to sit, eat and socialize was something I hated. But, today I was feeling pretty happy but nervous. I thought of scenario after scenario about John. He could beat me up right here. No, he could've done that in the bathroom but he didn't. Not show up? Possibly. Maybe he would ask me...

My thoughts were cut short because at a far booth across the lunch room, there he was. Sitting down with his face buried in a book. Once again, it was like he sensed me watching him. He looked up and smiled that beautiful smile. 

Ughhhh!!!

He waved me over, so I made my trek towards him, trying to avoid eye contact with as many people as possible. I heard a few snickers and scoffs, aimed towards me of course. Once I got to the table, John scooted over so I could sit down next to him. Once I was seated, he stared at me, still smiling slightly. 

"Now, tell me who you are, Mr Holmes." He moved his arm to place it behind me. I freaked out a little bit but realized that he had just placed on the top of the chair. 

I shifted into a comfortable position. "Well, I play the violin, I like otters and I deduce people." I state matter of factly. 

"You seduce people?!" He chuckled. 

"No... NO! I deduce people!!!" I said slightly panicky. 

"Well, since you don't seduce people and deduce them instead, what does that mean exactly." He sounded genuinely interested. 

"Well... whenever I look at someone, I can use a form of observation to know what their life is like." I said nervously, still panicked at the previous conversation. 

"Fine, can you deduce me, Mr Holmes?" He said quite seductively (sorry I had to ><) 

"Okay than," I shifted to face him and get a good look at him. "You wear glasses constantly from the divots in your nose wear your glasses normally sit. I can also see the contacts in your eyes too, not very hard to notice, but you don't wear them all of the time. From the way your eyes are slightly irritated and red, you're still getting used to them, so you've had them for about a week. You also have a pet hedgehog because I can see the white scratches on your hand where he pokes you, so you just got him recently. Looking at your phone now, it was a given to you by your brother. To Harry from Clara xx, that means that it was a gift for him from a girlfriend. He broke up with her, so he gave the phone to you so he could forget about her altogether. Also Harry is a drunk because of the scratches near the charger. A sober mans phone never has them, a drunks never without them."

I closed my eyes and prayed that he wouldn't hit me or call me a freak. 

Nothing happened. 

I opened my eyes and could see John's mouth hanging to the floor with a huge smile plastered on his face. "Wow that was..."

"Stupid, I know." I whispered. 

"No, that was amazing! Fantastic actually! How do you do that?!" He sounded excited for me, but why?

"I simply observe I guess." I blushed furiously from the compliments."I wasn't expecting you to say that. People normally don't say things like that." 

He cocked head a little bit, "What do people normally say?" 

"Piss off."

He laughed pretty hard which made me laugh. A genuine laugh felt good, I haven't laughed a real laugh in ages. 

We sat through the rest of the lunch talking about literally everything. Once the bell rang for third block, we exchanged numbers. 

"It was nice getting to know you, Sherlock." John smiled. 

"Yes, and it was nice getting to know you, too, John." I smiled back. 

"It's nice knowing I actually have a friend in this school now." He began to walk away. 

"Wait," I grab his shoulder, gently spinning him back around. "Friend? You want to be friends with me?" 

"Well of course I do! Why wouldn't I? You're such a great person compared to most of these stupid kids in this school." He looked around the room. 

"Well I agree with that statement, but you are the first person who said they'd be friends with me since play school." I quietly said, hoping he didn't hear me. 

"Well, it's a good thing I helped you last week then isn't it?" John smiled up at me again. 

Awe, he's so cute.

"Yeah, I guess it is a good thing." I grinned at him. 

"I should be headed to class, see you later, Sherlock." John turned back around, giving me another wave of farewell. 

"See you!" I shouted back over the noise of other kids. I had a spare so I sat back in the booth where John and I had lunch. 

Not even two minutes went by when my phone buzzed. 

Thanks for meeting me at lunch, it meant a lot to me. - JW

I smiled at the device. 

Thanks for being my friend, John. :) - SH

I smiled to myself, leaning my head against the back of the chair.

Buzz

:) Meet me after school, maybe we could hangout? - JW

Okay. - SH

Now I really couldn't wait till after school. 

I felt something warm in my chest whenever I thought about John. Something warm and fuzzy like my favourite childhood blanket. I felt safe around him, I wanted his arms around me again. Was it friendship? No, I didn't feel like any old friendship, it felt like what I had with Jim's friend last year, but something more genuine. Something more real. But what was was it. Could it be? No, it couldn't. I only just met him. But could it be...

Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI FRIENDS!!!! Sorry I've been gone for a while, I've been hella busy. So yeah, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I enjoyed writing. Now, let's what and see where Sherlock and Johns "friendship" go from here! Talk to you later lovelies.   
> \- B <3


	5. What the hell?

John's POV 

Sherlock is quite the character. I don't really understand him but I really find my self drawn toward him. Normally, I hate it when people act like a know it all snob, but with Sherlock, I don't mind it, it's kind of cute actually. The way he had told me who I was from just glancing at the few things I had was incredible. 

As I walked away from the bench were Sherlock was sitting, I looked back and saw he was watching me with a slight smile on his face. I blushed and waved. I rounded the corner of the cafeteria and was about to head to class. 

Shit, I forgot my binder in the car. 

I spun around groaning that I had to go outside to grab the books. I made my way out of the school and began to walk on the cross walk. Something didn't feel right but my thoughts were quickly quieted by the sound of an engine roaring. I quickly looked to the left, then everything when black. 

Sherlock POV

After John left, I watched him and smiled. I finally felt like someone actually liked me as a person. He looked back and blushed and waved timidly. 

How cute. 

After he rounded the corner, I saw him walk the other way. I chuckled. I relaxed a bit then heard a car engine revving, then slam on its breaks, then revved off again. Something didn't feel right, so I sprinted out the door of the cafeteria then out of the school. I nearly threw up at the sight of John splayed on the ground. His face covered in blood, his face split open, oozing blood. He was still conscience, screaming out in pain. His left leg bent and an unnatural angle.

I ran over to him, at this point, bawling my eyes out. "John! It's- it's okay! You're going to be okay. Help!!! Someone help me!!"

He was crying, "I can't- f-feel anything s-Sherlock." John was gripping my arm, but his grip began to weaken and his breath began to speed up then slow down. 

"No," I began to whimper. "John, stay with me! some one help!!"

Ambulance came around the corner and halted to a stop. They all filed out of the emergency vehicle  and ran over to John. Everything happened so fast but somehow I ended up on in the ambulance next to John. His eyes began closing and the doctors began yelling. I found myself grasping John's hand and he looked over at me. Through his half closed eyes, I could see pain in his eyes. I cried silently and continued to hold John's hand. 

It took 20 minutes to get to the nearest hospital. The franticness happened again. People everywhere. Running. More running. Scared for John. For his life. Doctors. Yelling. More running. Running. Stopping. Stopped. 

"You can go in sir. He is going in for surgery." A nurse said. 

"Surgery?" I whispered. 

She nodded. 

Oh John, what have you done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know i didn't update yesterday. My Wattpad wasn't working. ANY WAY! Hope you liked (or disliked) this chapter. Tomorrow, another update!!
> 
> \- B <3


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